


The Dundies

by fireandhoney



Series: Based on [insert media content here] [1]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Based on The Office (US), Drunken Confessions, Drunken Kissing, First Kiss, M/M, MET event, Mentions of Sarah - Freeform, Mentions of alcohol, Poor Sherlock, The Dundies, mentions of Lestrade - Freeform, new scotland yard
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-20
Updated: 2020-12-20
Packaged: 2021-03-11 05:47:55
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,469
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28200111
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fireandhoney/pseuds/fireandhoney
Summary: Based on an episode of The Office (s02e01: The Dundies)
Relationships: Johnlock, Sherlock Holmes/John Watson
Series: Based on [insert media content here] [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2065803
Kudos: 17





	The Dundies

They had been invited to the Met’s Christmas event - some sort of gala or ceremony, Sherlock wasn’t sure - a couple of weeks ago. He’d fought John tooth and nail to avoid having to go, but “It’s an easy way to soften the view these officers have of you, Sherlock” and “Greg invited us personally, it would be rude not to go” had finally convinced him he could try and tolerate the Yard’s idiots for an evening. Plus, he could always just get up and leave if it was too insufferable, and he was going to be with John, who would buffer his contacts with people by handling the social interactions, right? 

That’s what Sherlock had assumed, but apparently, John had other plans. All dressed up in a dark blue suit, Sherlock waited by the door of their flat for John to be ready. When he finally made his way down from his bedroom, Sherlock clapped his hands together. 

“Let’s get this over with.”

But John frowned and shook his head. “We’ve gotta wait for Sarah.”

Sherlock froze, and quickly, his blank mask slid up. “Sarah?”

“Yes, Sarah. My girlfriend. You can’t pretend you don’t know her, Sherlock!”

Sherlock shrugged and moved to sit in his seat in the living room. “You’re still dating _her_?”

John crossed his arms over his chest and squared his shoulders, offended. “What does _that_ mean?”

But as Sherlock answered “Dull”, the doorbell rang and John loosened, turning around. 

“Deal with yourself and meet us downstairs when you’re ready to face people.”

“You know that’s never the case, John.”

John shook his head and sighed loudly, descending the stairs. 

And that’s how, 45 minutes later, Sherlock found himself sitting at a small table next to John and unexpected Sarah. Sherlock wasn’t focusing on much, just being there and deducing things about the people around them in his mind to keep himself occupied and also, to pretend he could ignore the two arguing next to him. Apparently, John hadn’t told Sarah Sherlock would be there either - “turns out we were both unannounced guests” - and ever since Sherlock had walked out of Baker Street, the couple had been bickering and exchanging with the tone that people used when they wanted to fight without seeming like they’re fighting. The cab ride was uncomfortable, and now, the evening was promising to be downright unbearable. 

And so, Sherlock turned his attention to literally anything else than them. The number of ornaments in the Met’s Christmas tree which is 137 (“...always with him…”), the number of tables in this hall - 43 if you count the registry table (“...blowing me off to run God knows where…”), the woman across from him sneaking more alcohol out of her purse (“...my colleague and flatmate, what else could…”), the man next to her fidgeting because he’s meeting his mistress later and doesn’t know how to get rid of her (“...never tell me anything…”), Lestrade three tables down discussing with one of his superiors in a fake but believable enthusiasm (“...save people, Sarah. That’s why…”), Donovan and Anderson eyeing each other from opposite ends of the room even though he’s sitting next to his wife (“...not gay!”). 

Okay, that did break through Sherlock’s attempts to block his hearing. Still holding the glass of champagne he’d been served and hadn’t touched, Sherlock turned his head slightly enough to see Sarah picking up her things and getting up, giving John a deadly glare. She looked up and met Sherlock’s eyes, shook her head angrily, and stormed off. Sherlock observed the scene silently, John ignoring Sarah and instead, clenching and releasing his left hand a few times before picking up his champagne and downing the whole glass. He huffed, then turned to Sherlock and pointed at his. “Are you gonna drink it?”

Sherlock frowned slightly, but shook his head, and John grabbed the glass, pulling it out of Sherlock’s fingers, and drank the entire thing. He deposited the glass on the table, blinked a few times, like knocked back by the alcohol, and nodded to nothing in particular. Sherlock didn’t know what to do or say, but he didn’t have to think much, because John spoke up. 

“So, what about him?” and pointed at a Met officer a few tables away. Taken aback, Sherlock turned to look at the man, and observed him for a minute, before declaring. 

“Low ranking officer, who showed up simply to impress his date, but she’s been flirting with his colleague all evening.”

John nodded. “Ha!” At that moment, a waiter passed by their table and John halted him, ordering them a glass of champagne each. Sherlock didn’t protest, knowing it wasn’t really for him, but he did eye John curiously, who completely ignored him and turned his head to the other end of the room. 

“And what about her?”

“She’s reading porn on her phone.” 

John choked, looking at Sherlock with bright eyes. “You can’t be serious!”

Sherlock shrugged, an amused smile on his lips. 

“She hasn’t interacted with anyone unless it was absolutely necessary, she keeps scrolling at regular intervals, she flushes up every couple of minutes and looks around to see if anyone noticed.”

John nodded, absorbing all the data, and started laughing. “Who would come to an event like this to spend the evening reading on their phone?”

“The best part is that she’s sitting right next to her superior officer, who definitely has noticed but doesn’t know how to approach the subject, and so he keeps pretending he doesn’t see her.”

John’s laughter doubled in intensity, and he let go of his newly acquired champagne to avoid dropping it. As Sherlock was about to start talking of another guest, the Commissioner got on stage and started speaking. Quickly bored by his speech, John drank some more and leaned over to whisper “What about him?”

As Sherlock took a moment to think, John scooted closer, moving his chair so it’d be lined up next to Sherlock’s. Sherlock kept his voice low as he commented.  
“He enjoys going to karaoke bars to sing on the weekend.”

John turned to Sherlock in disbelief. “There’s no way you can deduce that from here.”

“True, I learned about it three weeks ago when he was trying to sneak out of a bar wearing a very cheap wig, but his ease with the microphone just comes to confirm it’s happened more than once.”

John bursted into chuckles, trying to stay as quiet as possible in his inebriated state. He kept drinking as other high ranking officers passed on the stage, each being exposed by Sherlock’s observations, and John’s laugh, until Lestrade’s name was called for some honour or award, Sherlock wasn’t exactly listening. 

At that moment, everything started happening fast, much too fast for Sherlock to follow. Upon hearing his friend’s name, John started enthusiastically clapping, even whistling a few times, and Sherlock laughed, stuck between embarrassment and amusement. As he heard Sherlock’s laughter, John turned to him and wrapped an arm around his neck, pulling Sherlock closer and kissing him. John held Sherlock, pressing his lips softly but surely to the detective’s, before letting go and sitting back in his seat, clapping some more, his attention back to the stage. 

Sherlock froze, his heart racing in his chest and his throat and behind his eyes. He looked around, worried someone might have seen, but everyone seemed focused on the speeches ahead. He turned to look at John, whose smile was genuine for once, appearing nothing else than happy. Sherlock released the breath he didn’t know he was holding and felt soft shivers over his body. He could still feel John’s warmth over his lips and he brought his fingertips to touch the sensitive skin. The moment had passed and was clearly already gone from John’s mind, and Sherlock realized he had to do the same: move on and pretend it hadn’t happened, for both their sakes. 

And so that’s what he did, going back to deducing anything and everything about the people around them until the evening ended. Lestrade came by to thank them for coming, joked about John being obviously pissed, and helped Sherlock navigate John to the kerb so he could hail a cab. Once back in Baker Street, Sherlock held John’s shoulders all the way to the doctor’s bed, before going to their living room and sitting down by the fireplace. Unable to sleep, he replayed the events of the night in his head, knowing he had to hide them in his mind palace, lock them away so they wouldn’t come bursting in at the most inappropriate of times, and when morning came, he promised himself he would never mention it again, keeping it in a box with all the other moments when John and him played the “almost something” line.

**Author's Note:**

> "And I feel God in this Chili's tonight!"


End file.
